by C.L. Bevill
Chapter 11
Well-Laid Plans…
An hour after I had taken Kara’s bicycle, I was pedaling through Crescent City when the firefly pixies showed up, surrounding me with their energy and essence. Oh, they were highly agitated with me, and I couldn’t even sing to them because I was panting with effort. I don’t think that they would have been soothed by that in any case. Succinctly, they were pissed off. I didn’t have to be a rocket scientist to figure out what was bugging them.
Three times I had to stop and walk to conserve my strength. Once I stopped and sat on the curb next to a pharmacy until I could breathe regularly again. The firefly pixies buzzed me continuously until it became obvious to them that I wasn’t going to turn around. One landed on the bicycle handles and chastised me roundly, shaking both tiny arms frantically, glaring at me with discontent. She even stomped on the brake with all the force that her tiny body could muster.
I sighed. “I know,” I told them sincerely. “I know he’s coming. I could feel it yesterday.”
I couldn’t explain that feeling anymore than I could explain how Zach dreamed of me previous to actually coming into contact with me. I had always been on the cusp of knowing something was going to happen. Usually it was a certain song on the radio or knowing my cell was going to ring before it did. There had been a bad feeling about the mountain trip with my father, but I hadn’t put the words to the feeling. Then I had thought it was simply because I didn’t want to climb up another mountain with my father when I could be at the mall with my friends. There had been the bad feeling as I approached the bonfire at Bandon, but I had been injured and sick, and was all too willing to ignore it as my imagination in my excitement over being able to be in contact with another person.
Not so this time. No waiting and thinking that it was just a weird feeling that I should ignore. No ignoring at all. The firefly pixies inadvertently had reinforced my decision. Their frantic presence made me confident that I was headed in the correct direction. I’m sure if they had known that, they would have never shown up at all.
The first moment I had seen the sign, I had known somewhere deep inside. It was something I hadn’t admitted to myself until Zach had offered to go ahead to see what was at the mile marker. He was going to be there at the billboard. I was going to be there, too. I couldn’t tell what was going to happen, but I knew it was going to be bad. I had to stop him before he could do something to Zach. Zach was going to protect Kara and me, but he was going up against a very evil individual, and Zach wasn’t going to persevere. I knew that, too. And I wasn’t going to be able to live with that.
That was the choice I had to make. This was the reason I had done what I had. If I had allowed Zach to go, he would have died. Therefore, I didn’t allow him that choice. Hopefully he was still sleeping off the drugs I had given him and Kara, both safe from him. They would be angry with me. Perhaps they wouldn’t be able to forgive me, but I could live with that. I would make the same choice again over and over, if given the opportunity.
I stopped at a gas station and got a gallon can of gas and a matchbook from the register. I checked to see if the matches worked, and they did just fine. I hadn’t realized what Zach had been doing to start our fires. A match was another chemical reaction like the bullets from the guns, but for whatever reason, it was still good to go.
Using a hose from the back of the gas station, I discovered how utterly disgusting it was to siphon gas from a parked car. Don’t even talk about doing it in the dark because using a candle with an open flame around gasoline is a bad idea. Believe me, the principle sounds much easier than the actual process. It’s very easy to get a mouthful of gasoline by mistake. Getting a mouthful of gasoline will spoil everything you taste for several subsequent hours. Really, gross me out.
Three hours after I left the house between the highway and the beach, I was back at the sign. It didn’t look all that different in the nighttime except I couldn’t see the letters from my vantage point. Off to the east, the sky was beginning to tinge with pink, indicating the sun was coming around the bend, but the stars above me still twinkled brilliantly.
The firefly pixies were still with me although I was aware that half of them had flown back to the south after it became more and more evident that I wasn’t going to give up. Apparently they were sneaky, too. They were headed for reinforcements. “Good luck waking Zach and Kara up, girls,” I muttered ungraciously. “And don’t forget to fix the flat on his tire, too.”
I put the kickstand down on the bicycle and got the gasoline off the bike rack. Then I climbed up the ladder and drenched the sign with gasoline. I let the gasoline run down the supports, and when I was done, I tossed the gallon can. The firefly pixies kept their distance from me as I climbed down the ladder. Maybe the gasoline smell was bothering them or maybe they started to realize that things were becoming more dangerous.
I didn’t know what was going to happen, but I knew that the sign had to be destroyed before the Burned Man could see it. If I failed, then he would go after whomever had painted the sign. I deliberately herded the firefly pixies away and waited until they flew to a safe distance. I flicked a match against the striker pad and observed the blue glow before the match ignited. For once the wind wasn’t blowing, and the match stayed lit.
There was a loud keening from the pixies. They didn’t like the fire. They didn’t like that I had it. I tossed the match and quickly retreated to where the pixies were hovering and bleating in distress.
We watched the sign flare into a full-flamed fire. It crackled and sputtered with the strain of the intense heat.
I got my crossbow from the bicycle and loaded it with a bolt. I checked the daggers in my belt and in the ladies hiking boot that I had borrowed from the beach house. They were a size larger than my feet, but it didn’t matter much.
One of the firefly pixies deftly dive-bombed my face. She came so close I almost flinched. Then she landed on my shoulder and violently tugged on my hair. She said something. Then she said it again. It sounded like, “Sak. Sak. Sak!” The other pixies flew around me and repeated the word in complete synch. After a moment it dawned on me that they were saying, “Zach.”
“What?” I said. “Is he coming? Or is something else wrong?”
The one on my shoulder yanked at my hair again. I’m sure she was trying her best, but it only felt like a few strands of my hair was caught in something unsubstantial. I turned my head slightly to look at her.
She jabbered at me and then pointed to the north. She pointed again and then really yanked on the hair. The strands came loose, and she went flying. It was more luck than anything else that my hand reached up to catch her before she fell to the ground.
Abruptly, the firefly pixies were silent. It was odd. They had been making noise at me generally and around me. It had comforted me to a certain extent. There was only the burning of the sign nearby. It blazed with furious concentration as paper and wood were consumed.
The pixie sat in the palm of my hand and shook her body slightly as if she were clearing her head. She chirped at me, still holding several strands of my hair, and pointed north again.
I looked but I didn’t see anything. The highway stretched away. The pink in the eastern sky was beginning to spread. The skies closest to the horizon were changing to yellow as the Earth continued to roll around in its incontrovertible manner. I could see the thick pines and redwoods that grew in abundance on the western side of the highway. The eastern side was populated with pasture of some sort.
With one hand, I took the axe off the back of Kara’s bicycle and put it within reach. The crossbow was better for the distance, but I wanted everything I had. The sign crumpled as it burned and part of it fell into the field it stood in. The ladder fell, as well. The weight of the burning parts had tumbled it. The noise echoed into the rapidly fading night, leaving only gray smoke billowing into the skies.
I was dismayed to find that the smoke was readily visible and becoming more visible as the sun continued
to ascend in the east. It was like a neon sign pointing to my location.
The pixies grumbled abjectly. The one in my palm jittered nervously. At last she took a leap into the air and flew into the mass of her companions. They hummed above me, gradually regaining a little of the noise they were making before.
I shuddered with the fear that I felt rising inside me. Had I ever made a stand for anything before? I hadn’t needed to in the past. My parents had been of the liberal, laissez-faire persuasion. They supported me wholeheartedly in my pursuits, only interfering when I needed guidance on more imperative issues. (That included the all-important talk on the birds and the bees, illegal drug use, and the necessity of a college degree in life, to all of which I had been easily convinced.) I could remember only having to successfully debate for items or events that I desired. Half the success had been wrapped up in proper preparation.
Was I prepared to face a man who would have been judged criminally insane in another world? I was tired. I was weak. I had enough weapons to do the job. I had firefly pixies on my side. The only thing that I was really prepared to do was to save Zach from throwing his life away for my protection.
The sun peeked over the horizon, and the pixies danced about in indecision. One of them flew close to my ear and whispered inaudibly. Their chattering died off to absolute silence. Startled, I looked at the one at my ear and saw that she was staring north. Then I looked north.
He was about a hundred yards away from me. His figure was cast in shadows, but he was walking toward me, slow and unhurried as if he had all the time in the world. As he drew closer, I raised the crossbow and held it with both hands, willing my limbs to be steady enough for the shot.
Half his hair was gone. The other half was black with half-healed burns. Scorch marks raked down his face, and one of his hands was curled abnormally as if it had been deformed in the fire. He was wearing filthy hospital scrubs, and I had an idea where he’d crawled off to after he’d fallen from the bluff. He dragged one of his legs a little. The only thing that was left that even remotely looked human, were his blue eyes. Deep blue like a mountain lake’s water, they regarded me as if I might not be entirely real.
I stared back, bracing the crossbow with my elbows against my body. Muscles began to tremble.
The firefly pixies began to make another noise. They hissed at him as if they were cats. They also withdrew behind me, flying in troubled circles, unsure of their next movements. All the time he stared at me, and I stared back.
This time he wasn’t shrieking. He didn’t have the advantage. And from what I could see, he didn’t have a weapon. His hands were hanging at his side, one of them horribly distorted. His feet were as blackened as the rest of him and bare. He looked away from me and then up at the burning billboard. I saw his lips curve into an approving smile.
“Did you…” his hoarse voice said and abruptly stopped. He swallowed convulsively and tried again. “Did you start that to get my attention?”
“No,” I answered. I was going to be honest about it if I could. My heart and head were racing. He was still insane. I could tell. If he could kill me, he would. But was it possible to convince him to leave us alone? Would it be feasible for me to succeed without killing this twisted individual? Could I live with myself if I discovered that I had let him live only to have him kill someone else?
His body shuddered. I nearly stepped back. He was taller than I remembered. Perhaps topping six feet, he had the weight to match his height. All I had recall from that nightmarish time was that he was stronger than me and willing to kill me without cause. The vivid recollection of the punishing weight of his body as he straddled mine and his arm slashing overhand with the knife that he intended to use on me had been terrifying. Now he presented as something else. His blackened flesh and seemingly calm demeanor offered as monstrous.
He was a thousand times more frightening now than he had been that night on the bluff. And I wasn’t certain I could kill him without cause. He wasn’t threatening me except by his previous actions.
I don’t know that Zach or Kara would have had me fire the bolt without questioning my own ethics. Before the change it was legally acceptable to kill while defending yourself. No one would have questioned me if I had killed this disturbed individual during his first attack on me. Not given the circumstances. But this was after, and no one would question my decision except myself.
Then I could see that the Burned Man saw the indecision in my eyes and he smiled bigger. His dreadfully cracked flesh oozed clear liquid as he smiled wider. “You can’t,” he said, and he made a noise that sounded like laughter.
The pixies hissed harder. One tugged at my ear while several others pulled at my hair. They wanted me to run. But they didn’t know that the man was going to follow. He wouldn’t give up. I could see into his eyes just as well as he could into mine. There was crazed determination there. If I turned my back on him, I was dead.
His smile dropped away at the sounds from the enraged pixies. Their tiny glowing bodies caught his attention, and he snarled, though he didn’t move. His body dipped into a semi-crouch as if he were going to launch himself at the little vibrating beings. The snarl made the pixies churn in animosity.
“Them,” he raged. “They did this to me.”
I didn’t say anything. He hadn’t liked my voice on our previous meeting, so I wasn’t going to try to antagonize him. He was crazy enough without any help from me.
His blue eyes shot to mine. “You. They like you.” His voice fractured with pain. I thought that perhaps he had inhaled some of the heated air of the fire and injured his vocal cords. “They…protect you.” His head angled forward in order to see me better. “They’ve marked your face.”
I nodded.
His good hand clenched together and remained closed. “Give them to me,” he said at last. “Give them to me to kill, and I’ll let you live.”
I looked at his face and realized that not only was he serious but that he expected me to comply. Not for one second did I believe that he would keep his end of the bargain. Not that I could have done what he wanted in any shape or form.
“Fly,” I said to the pixies. I whispered it fiercely. “Fly away and never come back,” I cried harshly. “Before he can hurt you!”
The firefly pixies scattered before they keened sharply at me. They were begging with me to flee for my life. Their little green forms blasted away, racing for the skies. The man’s intense blue eyes opened wide as he perceived their intent. Suddenly, he came at me with a sudden shriek of infuriated wrath. I raised the crossbow and fired.
And I missed. Without hesitation I lifted the crossbow up and swung at him like I would have with a baseball bat. It crashed against the part where neck met shoulder, and he yelled hugely. His good hand swiped at me and clipped my jaw.
Then I twisted away and reached for the axe. My fingers were touching the handle when he grasped my leg and spun me around. My right foot came up and swung at his face. Putting all my muscles into the swing, it connected with a loud crack that demonstrated I had broken is jawbone. He let go of my left leg, and I scrambled backwards like a crab.
I hadn’t been in a fight since the sixth grade and a bully who had been held back a year wanted my hair ribbons. The bully had learned a lesson about skinny ten-year-olds that I hoped she had never forgotten. The lesson had initially come from my grandmother, who wasn’t laissez-faire by any means. She had told me when I had to that I should fight and fight until I couldn’t stand up anymore. The ultimate point was to make sure that the other person was hurting just as badly as I was. Nana said I should use every inch of my body and not to worry about using the Queensberry rules. I hadn’t told Nana that I had to Google it to figure out what that meant. But I hadn’t forgotten.
He came after me as I scuttled backwards, his eyes aflame with the chase. He reached for my foot again with his good hand, and I changed tactics. I aimed for the bad hand and was rewarded with a tormented scream as I connected solidl
y with my foot. Then I was able to get back far enough to grab the axe in both hands.
I spun, already swinging the axe for his midsection, when he pushed forward again and tackled me around my stomach. We flew to the ground in a tangle of jostling limbs. The axe flew out of my hands and skittered across the asphalt far from my reaching fingers.
Then he was atop of me again, in an appalling repeat of the night on the bluff. His body straddled mine, and his wretched hot breath was feverish on my face. I bucked once, trying to get him off of me, but my arms and legs were achingly tired. The energy gained by adrenaline was rapidly draining away. He grasped my wrists with his good hand and squeezed my sides terribly with his thighs. I could feel my ribs compressing, and I found it difficult to breathe.
At least he wouldn’t find the others. Black dots appeared around the periphery of my vision. And he wouldn’t hurt the firefly pixies. At least that.
